The One With the Kiss
by Bailey2
Summary: An alternate Chandler-and-Monica-hook-up story; takes place right after the beach episodes.
1. Default Chapter

"You're sweet, and smart. and I love you," Monica told him, studying his familiar face across the table. Her words caused a boyish smile to break over his face, and he reached over to place his hands over hers. He looked so hopeful in that moment, and his large hands were so gentle around her own, that she almost failed in her resolve to let him down gently. A joke, go with a joke, she thought.  
  
"But, you will always be.."  
  
"Your annoying friend Chandler?" he cut her off, quietly, squeezing her hands a little before pulling away. His smile was now a little sad, and she felt something tug at her heart. "I know, Mon. It's okay." He gave a little sigh and stood up from the table, their card game abruptly forgotten. "Hey, I'm gonna go take a shower, 'kay? It's getting late, and if we're going to make those dinner reservations we'd better hustle."  
  
He gave her a goofy little wave and headed for the door, and Monica sat frozen to her chair, watching him go. She had to stop him; she couldn't let him go thinking he was nothing more than her 'annoying friend'. He'd taken enough crap from people in his life, girls who rejected him and stomped all over his heart, and she wasn't going to be one of them.  
  
"Wait, Chandler." She was on her feet and moving toward him before her mind had even formulated what she was going to do. He turned around expectantly, his eyebrows raised as she came toward him. He was such a sweet guy, and he deserved so much more -  
  
Barely understanding what she was going to do before she did it, Monica rose on tiptoe, arms loosely around his neck as she kissed him softly on the mouth. She'd meant for it to be reassuring, telling him what words could not about how important he was to her, but his lips were so soft beneath her own and he smelled so good and, god, when did he get so tall? - that suddenly her pulse was skipping a beat and she was moving away slightly to meet his stunned gaze before returning to his mouth, kissing him sweetly and with intent that was anything but 'friendly'. His lips weren't moving, and for an endless moment he stood rigid with his hands hovering just above her waist, helpless - but then something jerked him back to reality and suddenly he was returning her kiss, arms slowly moving around her waist and pulling her closer. It was still a fairly chaste one, as kisses go, but heated nonetheless, and as her tongue traced along his lips requesting entrance to his mouth, his arms tightened around her -  
  
And the door across the hall slammed.  
  
They broke apart in an instant, stumbling away from each other and breathing heavily. Joey made his entrance half a second later, and Monica ducked her head as Chandler swung away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Already making a beeline for the fridge, Joey of course noticed nothing.  
  
"Hey guys," he said, his back to them as he rooted for food. "Mon, do you have any of that leftover casserole?"  
  
"In the. uh. in the plastic container on the second shelf," Monica replied, a little breathless but praying he wouldn't notice.  
  
"Yes!" Joey muttered under his breath, spying the casserole. "You gotta make this more often, Mon. Only put more meat in it next time."  
  
"Joe, we're going to dinner in less than an hour," Chandler said to him, turning back around and meeting Monica's eyes as she lifted her head slowly.  
  
"I'm starving, Chandler! You know I can't wait that long. Rachel will hold us up, and when we finally do get there we'll still have to order and stuff. That's like an hour and a half!"  
  
"Uh huh." Chandler wasn't really listening. He was staring at Monica, silently asking for an explanation that she wasn't ready to give. She shook her head, slightly, and he gave her a searching look before finally nodding. "I'm, ah. I'm gonna go shower."  
  
Joey, micro waving his pre-dinner snack, waved at him over his shoulder. "I think I used up all the hot water when I gave the duck a bath, so have a quick one," he said.  
  
Muttering "thanks man" under his breath, Chandler gave Monica one last look before turning and exiting the apartment.  
  
She moved backwards until her legs hit the couch, and sank onto the back of it, exhaling. That had been one hell of a kiss, and half of her wanted to chase after him, barge into his apartment and finish it properly, while the other half. the other half was absolutely terrified what the repercussions of that spontaneous moment could be.  
  
One thing was for certain. It was going to be hell sitting through dinner tonight.  
  
--  
  
AN: I don't own the characters or the first line or two of dialogue, but the rest is mine. This is fun to write so far. I was inspired by rewatching those beach episodes last weekend; I always found them ironic since London is only a year away. What do you think, should I continue? 


	2. The One With the Kiss - Chapter Two

The following morning Monica sat alone at her kitchen table, halfheartedly reading the Times and sipping a glass of orange juice. Rachel had left early that morning for her mother's house on Long Island, telling Monica that she had to get some distance from Ross. She said she'd be gone all weekend, and not to expect her back until late Sunday night.  
  
Dinner the night before had been uncomfortable, the tension between Ross and Rachel overshadowing the lighthearted chatter that Phoebe and Joey attempted. Add to that the fact that she and Chandler were going out of their way to avoid looking at or speaking to the other, and you had one hell of an awkward night.  
  
For what had to be the hundredth time that morning, Monica glanced toward the door, wondering when Chandler would come over. She knew he wouldn't just let this go; she'd seen it in his eyes when he'd left the day before. But she had no desire to talk it out; she didn't want to analyze what had prompted their lip lock. It was spontaneous, and yeah, there had been feeling behind it – mutual, she was pretty sure. But it was too new, too sudden and too weird to even think about. She and Chandler? They'd been friends for ages. She vaguely remembered having a crush on him back in high school and college, but that was long gone by the time he'd moved in across the hall. Instead of a romance blossoming between them in those early days, the foundation of a friendship had been laid - and it had since grown into one of the closest, most reaffirming relationships she'd ever had. How could they even think about throwing that away?  
  
But that kiss… she couldn't deny that the kiss had been amazing.  
  
She sighed quietly, unconsciously touching her hand to her lips. Why Chandler? Why now? After all these years?  
  
Almost as though sensing her thoughts, there was a light tapping at the door before Chandler cautiously stuck his head in. Seeing her at the table, he gave her a neutral smile and then peered around the room.  
  
"Um, hey, Mon," he said, the strain in his voice betraying his nervousness. "Is Rachel around?"  
  
"No, she went to her mom's for the weekend," Monica said quietly, standing up and starting toward him. May as well get this over with.  
  
"Oh." He came the rest of the way inside, shutting the door softly behind him and then standing awkwardly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his khakis. She suppressed a smile when he actually scuffed one tennis shoe- clad foot along the floor. He really was so cute sometimes. This definitely wasn't the first time she'd noticed that, although it was the first time it took on any significance.  
  
She snapped to attention when Chandler started talking, color flooding her cheeks as she realized she'd actually been checking him out.  
  
"Hey, uh, before you say anything Mon… I know there's a good chance that kiss yesterday meant very little to you… if anything. And I didn't get much sleep last night analyzing it, I guess I'm still not sure what happened… but I just wanted to make sure… that it was no big deal and that you were just caught up in the moment… you know." He gnawed his lip nervously, staring at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.  
  
Monica was left staring at him.  
  
The easy way out. He was offering it to her, no strings attached. She could nod along, laugh it off, and let them both off the hook… and they'd never have to mention this again. They could go back to being plain old Monica and Chandler, platonic friends to the end.  
  
She opened her mouth to do just that… but at the last minute, for reasons unknown even to herself, she changed her mind.  
  
"You said 'you'," she murmured.  
  
He glanced up at her, a frown creasing between his brows. "What?"  
  
"You said… you were sure the kiss meant nothing to ME, and that I was just caught up in the moment. But you didn't say how YOU, uh, felt about it." She fell silent, cursing herself for even going down this route. She should have just taken the out he'd offered.  
  
He stared at her for a long moment, before finally giving her a quick, lopsided smile. "I thought how I felt about it was fairly obvious," he said softly. "I thought… you knew how I felt about you sometimes."  
  
She blinked in surprise. "What?"  
  
He began to look embarrassed again. "Shit. Uh… well, I guess I was wrong." He chuffed out an uncomfortable laugh, but she just stared at him, and he sighed. "A long time ago I had… kind of a thing for you. Okay? It was no big deal. Phoebe told me you knew; I guess she was just messing with me, and rest assured she will pay for that now that I've made a complete ass out of myself."  
  
"You – you've had a crush on me? For -?"  
  
"No!" He was quick to interrupt. "It was a long time ago, Mon. It's just… sometimes it…comes back. But it's not anything major, you know, and since there's no chance of anything ever actually happening between us, you're usually pretty easy to get over." He smiled wryly.  
  
  
  
She didn't smile back.  
  
"Look," he sighed. "I really was just messing with you, with all that boyfriend talk. I wasn't expecting you to take me seriously, and so I teased you because… it was safe. Granted, you acted like the idea was SO abhorrent that you may have hurt my feelings a little…" He gave her a puppy dog look, and she cracked a tiny smile, "but really, it wasn't a big deal."  
  
She nodded minutely, studying him. "I see. And the kiss?"  
  
His eyebrows shot up. "You initiated the kiss, Monica. You're the one who wanted to play tonsil hockey…"  
  
"Oh, like you were pushing me away," she retorted, and they smiled at each other, then laughed quietly as another silence fell.  
  
"This is crazy," Chandler said, shaking his head.  
  
"I agree." She smiled ruefully.  
  
He cleared his throat, ducking his head again before looking back up at her, his eyes warm. "So… are we cool?"  
  
She sighed. "Yeah. We're cool."  
  
He nodded, looking at her for a long moment before finally gesturing toward the door. "I, ah… I guess I should get going then."  
  
"Okay." Feeling a twinge of disappointment, she watched him offer a parting grin before he turned toward the door and began to reach for the knob. Something made her take a deep breath and call after him. "Hey, Chandler?"  
  
"Yeah?" He turned back around, inquisitively.  
  
She ventured a smile. "You're a really good kisser."  
  
"Ditto, Mon." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, eliciting a tiny laugh from her. "And there's more where that came from, you know."  
  
"I think I'll pass," she teased, relieved that they could joke about this now.  
  
"Rain check?" he asked, hopefully.  
  
"Chandler!" If he didn't get out of here soon, she was going to lose her resolve.  
  
"Okay, okay. Sorry." He gave her a sheepish smile. "It's just, that kiss was… wow. And part of me feels like…you know, since neither of us is seeing anyone right now…" He shrugged. "What's the harm?"  
  
She studied him, unable to decide whether he was serious or joking. Maybe he wasn't sure either. Maybe he was just out there on a limb, hoping she would join him.  
  
"Well – we're friends," she said slowly. "We don't… do this. There are rules."  
  
"Ohh." He nodded. "Do you think I could get a copy of those?"  
  
"Chandler…"  
  
"Okay. I'm leaving, I'll leave…" He paused. "Do you want me to leave?"  
  
She stared at him. "I don't know. You should."  
  
"I know that." He was staring back at her, and all the levity between them had vanished. Both seemed to realize that something in their relationship was shifting in that moment, altering the way they saw each other… perhaps irreversibly. And there was nothing they could do but go with it.  
  
Suddenly he was moving toward her, hands slowly reaching up to frame her face. She felt her breath catch in her throat, wondering at the intensity she saw in his gaze. She'd never seen him look like that before – or maybe she had. Just never directed at her.  
  
"Can I kiss you?" he whispered, even though it was clear from the way he was leaning toward her that he wasn't going to wait for her permission. She closed her eyes in anticipation, her pulse suddenly thundering in her ears as his lips brushed against hers. Softly, once – twice – three times, and she was barely breathing.  
  
Uh oh, she thought idly, her fingers twisting the soft fabric of his shirt to tug him closer.  
  
We're in trouble now.  
  
--  
  
AN: I struggled a bit with this one. It's hard to get their characterization down, but I tried to make their interaction here as realistic as I could. Anyway, the next chapter is already half done and has been much more of a breeze to write. Thanks for the feedback so far, I really appreciate it. ( 


	3. The One With the Kiss - Chapter Three

"So I'm going back out to Montauk next weekend, any of you guys want to come?" Phoebe asked the following morning, standing to carry her plate over to the sink.  
  
"No thanks," Chandler, Joey and Monica mumbled, still recovering from the trauma of the jellyfish incident.  
  
"Oh, come on," Ross objected from his seat on the couch, where he was stretched out reading the Sunday paper. "It's not like it could happen again. The odds are astronomical."  
  
"Ross, she got stung by a jellyfish, not hit by a meteor," Joey said, shoving another bite of waffle into his mouth.  
  
Ross looked momentarily nonplussed. Monica stifled a smile and began clearing the rest of the plates.  
  
"Well, maybe this time, you could be prepared." Phoebe picked up an empty carton of orange juice, waving it around in front of Chandler. "Fill her up?" He batted the carton away in disgust.  
  
"That's very funny, Phoebe," Monica said sourly, beginning to rinse the breakfast dishes.  
  
"I thought so!" Smiling, Phoebe wandered into the living room and took a seat on the end of the couch. "It would save Chandler a lot of embarrassment."  
  
"Hey, I'll have you know there was plenty of embarrassment to go around," Chandler muttered, lifting his glass of orange juice and then grimacing at the yellow liquid.  
  
"I think I'm over it," Joey announced, chewing noisily.  
  
"Close your mouth, man," Chandler told him. "And that's just because all you did was dig that stupid hole."  
  
"Bet you weren't thinking it was so stupid when you were in there… doing stuff," Joey told him, finally swallowing.  
  
The telephone rang shrilly on the end table, and Phoebe reached over to answer it. "Hello, Monica and Rachel's… oh, hey Rach!" On the couch beside her, Ross made a face and buried his head in the paper again.  
  
A few minutes later, Joey had left the apartment to get showered and dressed, while Ross was engrossed in the Opinion pages and Phoebe was still chattering a mile a minute with Rachel. Chandler took the opportunity to sidle up to Monica, who was wiping the kitchen counter.  
  
"Hey," he said quietly, quickly checking that no one was watching them.  
  
She glanced up at him briefly, her smile just this side of shy. "Hi. Like the waffles?"  
  
"Yeah, they were great. We should let you make breakfast more often."  
  
Laughing a little, she hit him lightly on the arm. "You guys would starve if I wasn't around."  
  
"We wouldn't starve, we'd just live off of Rachel's chewing gum and Phoebe's cookies… and of course, pizza."  
  
"In other words, like you were still in college." She rolled her eyes a little.  
  
"Yeah, or… pretty much any time before that. My mother wasn't much of a Martha Stewart. I think most nights I had TV dinners."  
  
"What every growing boy needs."  
  
He grinned slowly, and she suddenly realized how close he was. Too close.  
  
"Chandler, Ross and Phoebe are right here," she said in a low voice, dropping her eyes to the counter.  
  
"Relax, they're not paying attention. I just wanted to ask you…"  
  
She glanced up at him. "Yeah?"  
  
He was wearing a nervous smile, and she found herself melting. What the hell was happening? Two days ago, if he'd been this close to her, she would have told him to get out of her personal space. And now it was… it was… changed.  
  
"If you wanted to, ah, go out sometime," he finished quietly.  
  
Her eyes widened. She honestly hadn't expected that. "Like a date?"  
  
"Oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays?"  
  
She gave him a look. "Chandler. We can't… date. It would be weird."  
  
"Oh, but basically giving me permission to count each of your teeth with my tongue wasn't?"  
  
"Sssh!" He hadn't been speaking loudly, but she smacked his arm all the same.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he hissed, in an exaggerated whisper.  
  
She couldn't help smiling. He hadn't showered yet, and he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, hair rumpled and t-shirt and pajama pants wrinkled. "You're cute," she told him.  
  
He leaned against the counter, and his eyes were bright with amusement. "So cute you might want to go out with me?"  
  
She tilted her head to the side, biting her lip as she considered. "Okay. One date. But nobody can know."  
  
"Well, I already told Joey, but…"  
  
"What?!" She glared up at him.  
  
He flashed her a triumphant smile. "I had you."  
  
Her shoulders dropped in relief. "Chandler, I swear…" She let her threat trail away, momentarily distracted by how blue his eyes were. He had really pretty eyes, she thought. Long lashes. Why did guys always have such great lashes?  
  
"Monica, you're staring," he accused softly. Before she could even register what was happening, he'd leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. Straightening up, he grinned down at her and said, "Oops, sorry. I forgot that would be inappropriate."  
  
She just looked at him, speechless.  
  
"Hey, I should get going. I'll meet you down at Central Perk tonight at eight, okay? Dress up."  
  
And then he was gone, leaving her staring after him – her mouth hanging slightly open, and her mind racing a mile a minute.  
  
--  
  
"Monica, are you here?"  
  
The faint call from the living room startled her, and her head snapped up in alarm. What was she doing here? And what kind of question was that? All of her friends practically lived here.  
  
Sighing, Monica dropped the dress onto her bed, smoothing her hair and trying to look casual. "I'm in the bedroom, Phoebe, um… I'll be out in a second!"  
  
It was later that night, and Monica had already showered and done her hair and make-up. Now she was dressed in her robe, frantically flinging her clothes from one end of her closet to the other. She'd already decided on – and discarded – four outfits. Everything was either too little or too much. Too plain or too sexy. This was Chandler! She was dressing up for Chandler! The world had gone mad.  
  
There was a cursory knock on the door before Phoebe stuck her head in. "Hey, I was wondering if… whoa." Her friend's eyes widened as she surveyed the room, and Monica winced.  
  
"Mon, your room is a disaster area. What are you doing?"  
  
"I, ah… I…"  
  
"Monica, do you have a date?" Phoebe asked curiously, coming the rest of the way in and taking notice of her friend's sleek hairstyle and made up face.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Monica admitted, realizing the evidence was too incriminating to plausibly deny it.  
  
"You didn't tell me that. Who's the guy?" Phoebe began picking up the discarded outfits on her bed, examining them.  
  
"Just a guy. From work. A work guy."  
  
"Really? What's his name?"  
  
"Uh…" Monica's eyes fell on a designer Ralph Lauren scarf she'd borrowed from Rachel. "Ralph."  
  
"Ralph?" Phoebe's nose wrinkled. "You have a date with a guy named Ralph?"  
  
"Yup! Ralph's my date." She took her black miniskirt out of the closet and held it up in front of her, frowning. "What do you think?"  
  
"Where's he taking you?"  
  
"I don't know. He just said to dress up."  
  
"Ooh, a surprise." Phoebe smiled appreciatively. "Wow, I don't think I've ever seen your room like this. You must really want to make an impression."  
  
"Yeah, something like that," Monica said vaguely. She flipped through the blouses hanging at one end of her closet. "What do you think about the skirt?"  
  
"I don't know…" Phoebe said doubtfully. "Maybe you should borrow something from Rachel." She tossed the dress back on the bed and headed toward the door. "C'mon, let's go see what she's got."  
  
Great. Rachel's clothes tended to be even sluttier than her own. Monica sighed and trailed her friend into the other bedroom.  
  
Ten minutes later she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, appraising herself. Phoebe had found a navy blue slip dress that hung to mid-thigh on Rachel, but was just a little longer on her. It had a metallic sheen to it that brought out her eyes and set off her dark hair nicely. She spun around, checking the dress out from all angles. She had to admit, she looked good. Classy, but guaranteed to make Chandler's eyes pop out of his head a little.  
  
She hoped. Maybe.  
  
Shoving her wallet and keys into the small matching purse and trying not to think too much about the evening that lay ahead, Monica hurried back out into the living room. Phoebe was standing at the kitchen counter, flipping through Rachel's latest issue of Glamour and munching on a cookie.  
  
"So what are you going to do tonight?" Monica asked, bending over to adjust one of her heels.  
  
"Probably just hang out with Joey. Ross has Ben, Chandler's not home and Rachel won't be back till late." Phoebe shrugged. "Hey, you look great. Ralph's not gonna know what hit him."  
  
Ralph. She'd have to tell Chandler that; she was sure he'd get a kick out of it. And speaking of Chandler… if Phoebe said he wasn't home, he must already be down at the coffee house. She threw an anxious look at the clock. 7:59.  
  
"Okay, Phoebs. You be good and have fun with Joey; I'll be back late so don't wait up." She smiled nervously as she spritzed on some perfume.  
  
"Okay, Mom," Phoebe said good-naturedly. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Or would."  
  
"Uh huh." Monica tossed the perfume bottle back into her purse, giving her a wry look and a little wave. "See ya Phoebs."  
  
"Have fun!" Phoebe called, as the door swung shut behind her.  
  
Fun, right. Monica was utterly terrified. They shouldn't be doing this. This was crossing the line. Okay, so maybe the kissing had been crossing the line too, but that had been spontaneous. Sort of. The first five or six or… nine or ten times.  
  
This, however… this was premeditated. Planned. An actual social outing wherein she and Chandler would be perceived as a couple.  
  
God.  
  
Hurrying down the staircase toward Central Perk, Monica crossed her fingers and silently prayed that she would make it through the night.  
  
--  
  
AN: The feedback so far is really amazing, thank you guys for your comments, and I'll take all the constructive criticism I can get, lol. Who else liked tonight's Friends episode? I thought it was really sweet. I guess it inspired me to finish this chapter right away! 


	4. The One With the Kiss - Chapter Four

"So tell me about yourself," he said, smiling across the table at her with the candlelight flickering between them. His eyes begged her to play the game, and so she did.  
  
She told him about her childhood, her mom's favoritism and her dad's constant support. She spoke about high school, the rift between she and Rachel that had mended during their sophomore year, and her constant struggle to stay out of her older brother's shadow. She told him how it felt to hold the acceptance letter to NYU in her hands, the strange achy sensation of leaving home for the first time, and how close she and Ross had become during their college years together.  
  
She told him all the things he already knew, and a few things that he did not, but what made it different was… him. Her wisecracking pal Chandler who lived across the hall and liked to tease her and gave her the most comforting hugs, and this strange Chandler sitting across the table from her in his sports jacket, blue eyes serious and head bent forward to listen to what she had to say, so attentive – they were world's apart.  
  
So this is what Chandler Bing is like on a date, she thought more than once.  
  
He'd touched her seven times so far.  
  
Once outside of Central Perk, when he'd given her his gorgeous smile and then taken her elbow to lead her to the cab. Then during the ride to Sorrentino's, when he'd grasped her wrist and tilted it to see the time, and his hand had lingered there for a few moments longer than necessary, fingertips burning into her skin. Inside the restaurant, he'd guided her to their table with his hand on the small of her back, and as they sat down, he'd told her hesitantly that she looked beautiful as his hand reached up to brush her cheek. Twice during dinner he'd lightly squeezed her hand, and now, as she studied the dessert menu, he did it again – only this time he didn't let go.  
  
Flustered, Monica stared at the menu and read the same line over and over again. Where was that damn waiter, anyway?  
  
"Monica?"  
  
She bit her lip, peeking at him over the top of her menu. "Uh huh?" she answered brightly.  
  
He smiled. "I just wanted to tell you thanks. For agreeing to this. I'm having a really good time."  
  
She relaxed. "I'm having a really good time too," she said softly, realizing she was being unfair to him. "This is, without a doubt, the best date I've been on in ages."  
  
"This is the ONLY date I've been on in ages," he lamented, and she had to laugh.  
  
"So… did you ever bring any of your other girlfriends here?"  
  
Realizing her mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth, she sputtered incoherently as she tried to retract the statement.  
  
Meanwhile, he was wearing a shit-eating grin. "My 'other' girlfriends?" he repeated, mocking her. "Oh, honey, you know there's never been anybody but you…"  
  
Monica pulled her hand out from under his, trying to glare but ending up smiling. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. "That isn't what I meant and you know it," she muttered. "I meant, did you ever bring any of your girlfriends here."  
  
"Ah." Still grinning, he sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together in his lap. "Well, I brought Janice here once… she ordered oysters and choked on one of them, so I nearly had to give her the Heimlich maneuver while everyone watched like it was some sort of dinner theater."  
  
Monica snorted with laughter. "You never told us about that."  
  
"I like to spare myself humiliation whenever possible."  
  
"And so you went out with Janice why?" she asked dryly.  
  
For a moment she held her breath, worrying he might take offense, but he just gazed off into the distance for a long time before answering seriously, "I don't know."  
  
She laughed again. "I think that excuse only works once. You guys went out how many times?"  
  
"About five too many, and why, exactly, are we discussing Janice?"  
  
"Because I asked if you'd ever brought her here."  
  
"Right." He nodded. "Well… let's just say this has been a much more pleasant evening."  
  
Monica rapped her knuckles on the table. "Knock on wood. One of us might get food poisoning now."  
  
He grinned, and for a moment she just stared at him. Chandler had really grown into his looks the past few years, she decided. Instead of gangly he now just seemed tall and broad shouldered, and although he'd gotten thin to the point where she was worried last winter, he now seemed to be back to normal. His last haircut had really agreed with him, and in the dim light of the restaurant he really looked… incredibly… sexy.  
  
Thankfully, Chandler seemed unaware of the direction of her thoughts, launching into another dating horror story that had her wiping away tears of laughter at the end. The waiter came and took their dessert order, and five minutes later they were digging into the chocolate raspberry cake with relish - one plate, two forks.  
  
"Your half is bigger," Monica complained, as he cut into the dessert with his fork.  
  
"It is not."  
  
"You might as well just eat the whole thing."  
  
He gave her an exasperated look, and she bit back a smile. "Here. Now, are you happy?" he asked, cutting a large part off his own portion and shoving it across the plate.  
  
She grinned. "You are too easy, Chandler."  
  
Without a word, he slid the piece back across, stabbed at it with his fork, and shoved it in his mouth. Monica just smirked.  
  
For the next minute or so, there was nothing but the clink of silverware as they ate in silence. Finally, Chandler cleared his throat and set his fork down. "You can have the rest," he said graciously, as she took small bites of her own half, indulging herself.  
  
"I think I've maxed out my calorie intake for the day," she said regretfully.  
  
"Monica, you are a toothpick. You should have had two pieces."  
  
"Don't start that again," she warned.  
  
Monica was tired of people criticizing her about her weight – even though she knew Chandler meant well – and she usually just brushed him off.  
  
"Okay, okay." Chandler held up his hands in mock defense.  
  
"I already get enough of that from my mother, I don't need it from you, too."  
  
"Hey, I wasn't criticizing," he said, his voice unsure. "I just – care about you a lot, Mon. Worrying comes with the territory."  
  
Her eyes softened. "I know."  
  
Relieved, he leaned forward again, looking at her intently. "I didn't mean to, to make you think that's how I see you. In fact, I meant what I said before, you do look… amazing tonight."  
  
Boy, he could really turn on the charm when the situation called for it. A smile crept across her face as she laid her fork down, leaning in ever so slightly and trying to lighten the mood. "Chandler, are you hoping to get lucky tonight?"  
  
"Am I making any progress?" he joked.  
  
Laughing, she stood up and grabbed her purse. "You wish, Bing. I'm going to go to the restroom. Be right back."  
  
As she headed toward the ladies room she felt his eyes on her, and she smiled to herself. As the evening had progressed and the strangeness had worn off, they had unconsciously lapsed back into the "friend zone," but there was also some definite flirting going on. It unnerved her, but not nearly as much as it would have a few days ago.  
  
The revelation that she hoped he'd ask her out again came as she gazed at herself in the mirror, seeing for the first time in months, a genuinely happy woman with a glowing smile.  
  
Back in the restaurant, she caught Chandler's eye as he handed his credit card over, and they both smiled shyly. It was cliché, but she could swear her heart skipped a beat.  
  
I guess I should stop agonizing over this, she thought, and make something happen with it.  
  
"So where to next?" she asked, sitting back down across from him.  
  
"Oh, does this mean I've passed so far?"  
  
"With flying colors," she responded in utter seriousness, flooring him. Well, maybe it was the nudge of her foot against his ankle under the table that caused him to look so surprised.  
  
"Uh… great. Great. I actually thought we could, um, go for a walk in Central Park or something."  
  
She smiled. "That sounds wonderful." And so unlike the Chandler she was used to. No wonder Janice kept coming back. The guy was a romantic at heart.  
  
"Yeah," he said, his voice seeming to have dropped about two octaves. The two of them, romantic stroll, darkness. Interesting.  
  
"Maybe, you know, since all either of us is going to be thinking about is whether you'll kiss me again, we should just get it over with now," she proposed, inwardly wondering where all this bravado had come from.  
  
Chandler looked at her for a moment like he thought she might have been replaced by a pod person in the bathroom. "You want me to kiss you now?" he finally asked. "Here?" He threw a surreptitious glance around, as though their friends may have planted spies among the patrons.  
  
"Well, as long as there's nothing else to do..."  
  
She'd been teasing, but he leaned over with absolute seriousness on his face. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his warm breath against her neck, and then, as his hand closed gently around her own, he kissed her. Long, slow, deep kisses until she felt like she'd been drugged. He tasted dark, like wine and chocolate. She idly hoped nobody was paying attention to them, because this was more the kind of kissing you'd want to be doing privately, and she'd never really been the exhibitionist type before –  
  
Someone cleared their throat, and Chandler drew back so quickly he nearly fell off his chair. Monica took a few deep breaths, feeling a blush spread across her cheeks as she caught the eye of their waiter. He seemed amused.  
  
"Here you are, Mr. Bing," he said smoothly, placing the credit card and receipt in front of Chandler, who signed it with a hand that was only shaking a little, to his credit. "You have a good night now," the waiter continued in a tone that suggested he knew exactly what kind of night they'd be having.  
  
"Thanks, you too," Chandler said, stuffing the credit card back into his wallet and not meeting her eye. Finally, he looked up and smiled a bit. "I wonder how long he was standing there."  
  
Monica couldn't help but laugh, a little breathlessly. "Probably long enough to get quite a show." She glanced around the room. Everyone else seemed involved with their dinners and their own conversations. "Maybe we should get out of here before we become our own little dinner theater."  
  
He smirked a little. "I don't know if I should stand up."  
  
She felt her face grow red. "Chandler –"  
  
"I'm joking, relax." He grinned, getting to his feet. "You do have an effect on me, Monica, but I'm not exactly fifteen anymore."  
  
She sighed with relief. "Thank god," she murmured.  
  
Several minutes later they stepped out into the warm summer night, and Monica took a deep breath, trying to focus as she watched Chandler bend down and tie his shoe. "Want to walk to the park? It's only a few blocks," she said, hoping he'd agree. It was a beautiful night, warm but not humid, and clear. She wanted to see the stars.  
  
"Sure," he replied easily, straightening up. As they walked several paces down the sidewalk, his hand reached out and caught hers, squeezing lightly in a simple yet meaningful gesture. After a moment she squeezed back, and he relaxed.  
  
"So you're having a good time, huh?" he asked her, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen.  
  
"I am," she assured him, giving him a quick smile. "I… I thought this would be weird, but it isn't. Not really." Anymore.  
  
"I was actually worried about that too, but… I'm glad it didn't turn out that way."  
  
"Me too." She smiled to herself. A week ago, a few days ago, even – she would have laughed if anyone had told her she'd be out on an actual date with Chandler.  
  
"Oh, hey." He let go of her hand abruptly, jogging a few steps ahead of her until he paused beside a flower stand across the street from Central Park. Chewing on his lower lip, he surveyed the selection until his eyes fell upon a simple bouquet of roses. After paying, he presented it to her with a flourish and a sheepish smile.  
  
"The pink stands for appreciation, a 'thank you' for agreeing to go out with me," he explained, not quite meeting her eyes. "And yellow is friendship, which will always be, um, the most important thing between us…" He trailed off.  
  
Monica managed to swallow, feeling like she might start crying if he didn't stop acting so sweet. She studied the bouquet, noting that the third color rose he'd left unexplained. Red. She fingered the delicate petals softly, noting his sudden interest but choosing not to comment.  
  
"This is so sweet, Chandler," she said finally. "Thank you."  
  
He sighed with relief. "You're welcome, Mon." Taking her hand again, he led her past the florist's stand and across the street, where they moved slowly into greenery of the park. Past kids with ice cream cones, teenagers with stereos, and other couples walking hand in hand. They spoke once in awhile, idly, of inconsequential things like work or a movie they'd seen, but mostly silence reigned, filling the gaps in a way that a thousand words could not. Time seemed to float by, the outside world lost beyond the trees, sounds of the city muffled and distant.  
  
Sometime around the halfway point of their walk, Chandler led her to a bench at the side of the path, shadowed by the overhang of rustling branches and mostly hidden from view. When they were seated he turned toward her, his face just slightly anxious in the moonlight.  
  
"I know we agreed on one date, but I gotta ask… is there a chance we could do this again?" he asked nervously, his blue eyes nonetheless meeting hers straight on.  
  
Monica closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't –" she began.  
  
"I, I know you don't want to ruin what we have," he interrupted hurriedly, mistaking her intention. "But just hear me out for a second, okay?"  
  
She nodded, curious.  
  
"Look…we have a great thing going. You are one of my best friends, and I can't imagine it any other way. We've known each other since college, you know? If anything was going to happen between us, you'd think it would have happened back then. I don't know why it didn't. But maybe this was what was supposed to happen, maybe it was meant to happen like this. Some sort of natural progression." He took a deep breath. "A long time ago, I told you that if neither of us were married by the time we were forty, we should get married. This isn't a proposal," he was quick to add, and Monica smiled wryly, "god no, but I've always felt that you and I… we could be really good together. If we would just… give it a shot."  
  
Monica smiled warmly at him. "You did, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I did." He gave a little shrug.  
  
"Well, what I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted me," she gave him a nudge so he'd know she was joking, "was that I don't see any reason why we couldn't. Give it a shot."  
  
His eyes opened wide for a moment. "So I just bared my soul to you for no reason," he finally said.  
  
She laughed. "Chandler, it's not my fault you're so damn talkative."  
  
He looked offended for a moment, but then a little smirk formed on his face. "Well, there's a surefire way of shutting me up, you know."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah." He leaned over and stole a soft kiss, then smiled slowly at her. "Something like that will usually do the trick."  
  
"Hm… I think I can remember that," she said thoughtfully.  
  
He grinned. "How about a practice run? I'll start talking and then – mmph."  
  
He was cut off abruptly by her kiss, the first she'd initiated since, well, their first. His hands came up to frame her face, fingers threading slowly through her hair. She hummed softly under her breath. She'd missed this. The last guy she'd kissed was Pete, months ago, and to be totally honest, he wasn't the best kisser in the world.  
  
Chandler, on the other hand…  
  
"You're just full of surprises," she said breathlessly, pulling away. His eyes were darkened, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips.  
  
"I could say the same," he replied, sliding one of his hands down to play with the ends of her hair while the other hand traced a finger slowly down her profile to her lips. A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"What?" she asked, feeling slightly self-conscious under his intense gaze.  
  
"I was just thinking what everyone's reaction will be when we tell them."  
  
She shook her head. "Surprise? Shock?"  
  
"In your brother's case, maybe horror."  
  
"Maybe we shouldn't tell them right away. So soon after… Rachel and Ross, you know…"  
  
Chandler made a face. "I say the hell with that. Those two have their problems and they seriously need to work them out, but I'm tired of being caught in the middle."  
  
She sighed. "Me too." A thought struck her then and she worried at her lower lip, causing him to lean back and look at her closely.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I – I was just thinking about how they started out. They were so happy. And look what happened; look where they are now." She glanced up at him. "I want this, but… I don't want to end up like Ross and Rachel."  
  
Chandler shook his head after a moment. "We won't," he said firmly. "Mon, come on. Our friendship is so much stronger than theirs was, when they first started going out. And anyway, we're not them. We're us. Just because they didn't make it, doesn't mean… we won't." His voice grew very soft.  
  
Monica ducked her head, laughing a little. "When did you get to be so secure?" she asked him. "I – I'm a little scared that everything's changing so fast, and you… you're just going with it."  
  
He smiled a little, taking her hand and pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. "I'm terrified, Mon," he confessed. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could feel his pulse pounding rapidly.  
  
"Thank god," she whispered, causing him to laugh. She leaned forward, laying her head against his shoulder and feeling his arms go hesitantly around her in a familiar embrace. This was more what she was used to. Only now, she wasn't seeking comfort in his arms after some random guy had broken her heart. Now… now she was holding on for dear life, praying that this man wouldn't.  
  
--  
  
  
  
AN: Good lord, I am such a sap. I hope you're not all gagging from a sugar overdose right about now. And I'm sorry for the delay between updates – classes started again last week, so it's been pretty hectic getting back into that type of schedule. I'll try to update again a.s.a.p… whenever that will be. Oh and please note, I've only been to NYC twice, so if geographically some things seem weird or just plain wrong… forgive me. Thanks for the feedback, everyone who has written. :-) 


	5. The One With the Kiss - Chapter Five

Pushing through the door of Central Perk the following day on lunch hour, Monica spotted Rachel sitting alone on the couch and flipping through the latest issue of Vogue.  
  
"Hey, Rach," she called, hurrying over and dropping into the armchair. "I missed you this morning; you'd already left for work by the time I got out of the shower. How's your mom?"  
  
Rachel closed her magazine, smiling. "She's good. Um, actually she's dating again."  
  
"Oh?" Monica asked cautiously, wondering if this were a good thing.  
  
"Yeah, my sister has been telling her for months that she needs to 'get back out there' so she finally set her up with a guy who goes to her gym. He's a few years younger than my mom but she seems okay with it. Actually, she's much happier than she's been in a long time."  
  
"That's great," Monica said, smiling. "So did you meet him?"  
  
"Yeah, we all went out to lunch yesterday." Rachel began to tick off on her fingers. "He's a doctor, he's funny and SO polite, and he looks a little like Cary Grant."  
  
"Wow. How come you guys never set ME up with a guy like that?" Monica joked.  
  
Rachel smiled and started to say something, then looked up at Monica abruptly. "Oh, heeey," she drawled. "Speaking of. Who's this guy you went out with last night? Phoebs told me you were really nervous about it. Ralph something?"  
  
"Uh, Ralph from work," Monica said quickly.  
  
"Okay, that's cryptic," Rachel commented.  
  
Monica sighed. She and Chandler had agreed to tell their friends about their relationship, but they'd also decided to keep it private for just a few days. Hence, Ralph lived on.  
  
"He's just a guy that asked me out. I mean, how often does that happen anymore? Of course I went."  
  
"You're so full of it, Mon."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come ON. You went so far as to raid my closet. You never do that. And you were out really late last night; I was asleep long before you got home. You must have been having a good time."  
  
Monica made a noncommittal noise, examining her fingers.  
  
"So… when do we get to meet him?" Rachel asked expectantly.  
  
"How do you even know I'm seeing him again?" Monica challenged.  
  
Rachel stared at her for a long moment, then shook her head, smiling knowingly. "Where'd he take you last night?"  
  
"Sorrentino's," Monica said reluctantly.  
  
"Ooh, pricey. Then where'd you go?"  
  
Monica sat back, crossing her arms. "Central Park."  
  
Rachel grinned triumphantly. "A moonlit stroll, perhaps?"  
  
"No, we went there to pick up trash for a community service project," Monica replied, deadpan. Chandler would have been proud. "Yes, a 'moonlit stroll'. What's your point?"  
  
"Nothing," Rachel said, still grinning. "Sounds very romantic."  
  
Monica shrugged, staring at her lap but unable to keep a tiny smile off her face. "It was average."  
  
Rachel laughed. "Oh, please. Are those roses on the kitchen table from him?"  
  
"Nope. They're for you, from Treeger."  
  
"Monica." Rachel shook her head. "You know I'm gonna meet this guy sooner or later, so you may as well spill now."  
  
Monica took a deep breath. "If I tell you you'll meet him by the end of the week, will you drop it?"  
  
Her friend studied her quizzically for a moment. "You promise we'll get to meet him?" she finally asked.  
  
"Cross my heart."  
  
Rachel pursed her lips, then blew out her breath in an impatient sigh. "Fine," she muttered.  
  
Monica sat back with relief. "Thanks, Rach," she said. Then, in an effort to change the subject, "Oh, hey… guess who I ran into at the bank a few minutes ago?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Chip Matthews. From high school."  
  
Rachel seemed to perk up, all thoughts of Monica's mystery guy flying out of her head. "Are you serious? How is he?"  
  
Monica shrugged. "He's looking good. He kept trying to strike up a conversation with me, and then he gave me his number."  
  
"He gave YOU his number?"  
  
Monica glared at her. "Yeah, so?"  
  
"Nothing. So… did you tell him we were roommates?"  
  
"Yeah. He said to tell you 'hello'."  
  
Rachel looked indignant. "What a jerk."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come on! 'Hello'? That's it? Do you not remember what he did to me at our senior prom?"  
  
"Um…"  
  
"He ditched me and I couldn't find him for two hours. He was having sex with Amy Welch!"  
  
Monica bit her lip. "Yeah, I guess he was kind of a jerk."  
  
"Huh! He was a TOTAL jerk." Rachel was quiet for a moment. "Can I have his number?"  
  
"Rachel!"  
  
"Well, it's not like you're going to call him! You're all hung up on this Ralph guy."  
  
"You just said he was a jerk!"  
  
"I know, I know." She sighed. "I guess I just want to move past this whole thing with Ross and get on with my life."  
  
Monica gave her an understanding look. "Okay, I guess you can have his number," she said reluctantly. "Just… don't get involved with him again, okay?"  
  
"Eh, don't worry. I'll probably just use him for sex."  
  
"That's much better," Monica muttered, digging into her purse and taking out the scrap of paper with Chip's number scrawled across it. She handed it to Rachel, who looked downright smug.  
  
"Hey," came a familiar voice, and Monica looked up to see Chandler crossing the room toward the counter. He caught her eye and gave her a wide smile.  
  
"Hey," Monica echoed, unable to keep from smiling back. Rachel pocketed the scrap of paper and then turned greet Chandler.  
  
"Hey you," she said cheerfully.  
  
"You're back!" Chandler noted, ordering quickly and then sitting down at the little table across from Monica. "How was your weekend?"  
  
"It was nice," Rachel said. "Mom and I hung out, did girl stuff. And I got to meet her boyfriend."  
  
Chandler raised his eyebrows. "Nice guy?"  
  
"Totally," Rachel confirmed.  
  
"He's a Cary Grant look-alike and a DOCTOR," Monica added pointedly, smiling.  
  
"Ahh." Chandler crossed ankle over knee, looking amused. "Like mother, like daughter?"  
  
Rachel gave him the Ross finger, and Monica hid her smirk behind her hand.  
  
"Okay, Mr. Quippy," Rachel said, "what are you so happy about? It's Monday morning, you've been in here almost a minute, and we've yet to hear one complaint about how much your job sucks."  
  
Chandler accepted his coffee from Gunther, nodding his thanks. "My job does suck," he said. "My secretary is a drunk, half the office still thinks I'm gay, and I'm underpaid. Oh, and my white-out ran out around nine o'clock. There, you happy?"  
  
"See, now it feels like a Monday," Rachel said.  
  
"I've got some white-out," Monica announced, opening her purse and digging around inside.  
  
"In your purse?" Chandler asked.  
  
"You never know when it'll come in handy," Monica said defensively. She located the bottle and shook it to make sure it wasn't empty, then handed it to him. "And see, it has."  
  
"Well, thanks," Chandler said, still looking dubious as he pocketed the white-out. "What else you got in there?"  
  
"Hm…" Monica peered inside. "Wallet, keys, mace, two pens, a compact mirror, chapstick, breath mints, stamps, and Kleenex. Oh, and… sand." Frowning, she shook the purse and watched the little grains slide from side to side.  
  
"Sand? From the beach house?" Rachel asked.  
  
"Mmhmm. I gotta clean this out."  
  
"I'm still finding sand in my shoes," Chandler volunteered. "And, uh… other places." He shifted in his seat.  
  
Rachel held up a hand. "Whoa, too much information." She glanced at her watch. "Oh, wow, it's a quarter after twelve already. Hey, you guys want to grab lunch at the deli down the street?"  
  
"Sure," Monica said, and Chandler nodded in agreement.  
  
"Okay, I'm just going to use the restroom real quick." She stood up and grabbed her purse, muttering something like, "before Ross shows up" under her breath and heading toward the bathrooms.  
  
Chandler cleared his throat as they watched Rachel disappear into back hallway. Monica smiled uncertainly, acknowledging the awkward moment.  
  
"So… I hear you had a big date last night," Chandler said finally.  
  
Monica bit her lip, amused. "Yeah, I did."  
  
"Have a good time?"  
  
She lifted her head, smirking. "I guess so. He took me to Sorrentino's."  
  
"Wow! He sounds like a stand-up guy with expensive taste and inimitable class," Chandler said enthusiastically.  
  
Monica held back a laugh. "He tries."  
  
"Good-looking, too," Chandler continued, to which she rolled her eyes. "So, are you gonna see him again?"  
  
"Hm… maybe," Monica teased. "He asked me out for dinner tomorrow night, and since I have nothing better to do… I guess I may as well go. Free meal, you know."  
  
"Ah." He nodded. "Maybe a free movie, too?"  
  
Monica considered. "Yeah, maybe. The new Julia Roberts one looks good."  
  
Chandler made a face, coughing "chick flick" into his hand.  
  
"Or we'll compromise when we get there. He doesn't have the best taste in movies, but since he did pay for the meal last night, I suppose I owe him one. Of course… I'm not sure how much of the movie we'll really be watching, anyway," she added innocently.  
  
Chandler looked intrigued, but before he could say anything, the bell on the door jingled as Phoebe walked into the coffee house.  
  
"Hi, you guys," she said, spotting them.  
  
"Hey Phoebs," Monica answered. "We're going to go get some lunch, want to come?"  
  
"Sure," Phoebe said. "Oh, but I have to be back by seven; I'm performing today."  
  
"Most restaurants will prepare the food for us, Phoebs, we don't have to go out and forage for it," Chandler said wryly, standing up and tossing a couple dollar bills on the table. "I'm thinking the time constraints won't be a problem."  
  
"Yeah, I know, that was just my hint for you guys to show up here tonight and listen to me sing," Phoebe explained.  
  
"Phoebe, we spend over half our lives here. If we ever AREN'T here on a week night, I'd be surprised," Monica said, getting to her feet. Chandler nodded in agreement.  
  
"Okay, you guys ready… oh, hi Phoebs! You coming with us?" Rachel reappeared from the bathroom, perfectly groomed.  
  
"Yeah! Hey, so since you weren't here yesterday, I have to tell you about my Montauk idea. Do you think you'll be free next weekend?"  
  
Rachel and Phoebe hurried out the door ahead of them, already deep in conversation, and Chandler took the opportunity to grab Monica's arm, holding her back. "Hey, I have something for you," he said. "Actually, um, I was going to wait till tomorrow night to give it to you, but I guess I'll just do it now." As he spoke, he escorted her toward the door.  
  
"Oh, yeah? What is it?" Monica asked warily.  
  
Chandler reached into his pocket and drew out two rectangular pieces of paper, one of which he handed to her. She glanced down at it in confusion as he held open the door, following her out of the coffee house.  
  
"It's a… ticket?" she asked. "A ticket to a Yankees game?"  
  
He nodded. "You and me, next Saturday afternoon. I know you're not really into baseball, but I'll teach ya to love it, I swear. Joey can't go, he's got a big date lined up, and Ross is… embarrassing to take to games, so I figured you and I could go. My boss offered these tickets to me last Friday and I turned him down, cause I didn't have anyone I could take… but this morning they were still up for grabs, so I figured, why not? We could maybe make a day of it. What do you think?"  
  
Monica squinted into the distance, considering. Thousands of screaming Yankee fans, hot dogs and beer, and one humid August afternoon. It wasn't exactly her thing, but then again, the last few days had been filled with 'firsts'… no harm in one more. Besides, it did sound like it might be fun.  
  
She looked up at him, smiling. "You've got yourself a date… but only if I can wear your cap."  
  
--  
  
AN: Why the baseball? Well, I love baseball, I love the Yankees, and I'm the author, lol. Plus, I thought it would be a cute thing for Chandler to do. Um… I'm probably going to be skipping forward in time a little bit now, so don't expect this to go on ad infinitum (ad nauseam?). I'm attempting to follow the season four plots to some extent, but obviously there will be slight (and sometimes large) changes. This one is a bit rushed… I apologize for that. Thanks for the feedback, you guys are too kind! 


End file.
